The Lamb and the Gray Battle

September 17, 1990

Knox felt a stirring in himself. He was a virgin, but he was old enough to have those nocturnal pangs, the urges that embarrassed him in church. King Ao Guang was going to take Mary right there in the middle of the forest.

As children, their kisses were always innocent, sweet little pecks, but that wasn't what overwhelmed Knox. Knox recognized this man from the multiple propaganda posters, from school and church, but Mary called him Dear Ren and Knox couldn't control his heartbeat or the stiffening at his groin.

"You will never be cold again. You will never want for food or shelter," Dear Ren promised, his lips pressed to her with each statement. "I will give you anything, everything, you want."

Dear Ren pressed his whole body against Mary. His hands were gloved. Mary wanted his naked flesh, like when they were children, but not like that too. She found the folds of his robe, hid herself inside.

"I prayed every day that you would come." Another breath engulfing kiss. "You never came."

Dear Ren took his cloak off and wrapped it around her.

"You'll be cold."

"It doesn't bother me," he said.

Then like he always did when they were children, he put his arm under her knees and lifted her up. It was sunshine in that dark Ireland forest and Mary nuzzled him.

Ren put her onto his horse, beckoned Gran to him as well. Mary could see only Ren and ignored the snarl on Gran's lip. The portal flashed open and the Fortress welcomed them on the other side. Like a fairy tale, it rose up before her bleary eyes, the walls reaching to the sky. Except one wall had been blasted out. There were soot and pockmarks on the rock. A guard directed Gran away while a stable hand took the horse. Ren carried Mary past broken furniture, burned paintings, ruined tapestries, shattered vases. Workers cleaned up broken rock, others repaired damaged walls.

"What happened?" Mary said, shifting to each piece of wreckage.

"You're home now. That's all that matters."

Laoshi was exactly the same as always, a beige man, a flat, round nose. He ran forward, made a deep bow, made much of congratulating Ren on his success and welcomed Mary home. Laoshi had ascended to immortality over a thousand years ago as a young man, but he had the wisdom to appear as an elder.

"My King, where's the army?"

Mary's heart skipped a beat. That meant he had assumed his mother's position, but she couldn't ask. It explained his foul mood.

Ren said, "They treated Qizi like a fugitive. They can freeze for an hour. Once they've learned their lesson, have Djehuty open a portal to the barracks."

The rumble of his thundering heart vibrated against Mary and she rubbed her hand on the fabric covering him. Each step was certain and comforting.

She whispered, "I'm sorry for your loss."

Ren tripped, but he wouldn't let his bride jostle. He corrected himself, tried to paste the youthful smile back on his face. His voice was quieter when he said, "Thank you."

Ren's blush went up his face to his earlobes. He bowed his head.

Mary said, "My King."

He gasped. "Mo Bhanrion."